"Why? Don't you already know the answer?"
Jiang Li took light, graceful steps toward Dongfang Sheng, unafraid of the hatred burning in his eyes. "It's because you're soft. People like you—obedient, easy to manipulate—make perfect pawns for marriage alliances."
Her smile suddenly turned strange and hungry. "Only through marrying you can I slowly… step by step… wrap the entire White Fish Society around my fingers."
Boom!
Her shameless declaration of ambition was like pouring boiling oil onto a raging fire.
Dongfang Sheng's mind buzzed from the raw, unfiltered malice in her words.
Like a drowning man clinging to the last straw, he turned sharply toward Aunt Liang and shouted, his voice trembling with desperation. "Aunt Liang, you heard that! You heard her yourself!
She's a venomous snake! She wants to swallow the entire foundation of the White Fish Society! Are you really going to sacrifice me and hand our whole sect over to this woman?"
But Aunt Liang's reaction made his blood turn cold.
The old loyal elder of the White Fish Society didn't respond immediately. She stood in silence for a brief, agonizing moment.
In her eyes flickered a trace of struggle—then, just as quickly, it vanished, replaced by resignation and realism.
She didn't meet Dongfang Sheng's despairing gaze. Instead, she closed her eyes slowly and said, "Young Master, if you can see all this, do you think the Master can't?"
Her words hit Dongfang Sheng like a hammer to the chest, his body shaking violently.
Aunt Liang's voice continued, cold and clear, slicing away all illusions. "The Master sees everything. He knows better than anyone what Miss Jiang intends. But what other choice do we have?
If not for her ambition, what could we possibly offer to attract her interest in the first place?
But what of it? On one side lies the immediate disaster—the collapse and annihilation that's right before our eyes. On the other, something that might happen ten or even several dozen years from now."
She opened her eyes again and looked straight at Dongfang Sheng. "Tell me, Young Master—what choice does the Master have? What right does he have to choose otherwise?"
Her voice hardened, sharp as a blade. "The Master chose survival. To keep the White Fish Society alive for now."
Then her tone turned resolute and final. "As for the future—even if Miss Jiang truly has the ambition and eventually takes control of the White Fish Society, so what?
At least by then, as her husband and the nominal leader of the sect, you'll still be alive. You'll still have wealth, status, and a dignified life.
But if you refuse this marriage today, if you don't bow your head to the Jiang Clan for help, once Lingxi Sect's army arrives and Xu Mingye's sword is drawn…"
She paused. Her next words came out cold and certain as judgment. "You'll die. And the entire White Fish Society will vanish—completely erased from the Horn Constellation Realm."
Only Dongfang Sheng's ragged breathing remained in the silent warm chamber.
Jiang Li admired the utter despair twisting his face. Her smile grew brighter, sweeter—almost radiant.
But just then—
"In the Wasteland Realm, to openly threaten my friend…"
A cold voice cut through the room from beyond the door, carrying a piercing edge. "Who gave you that courage?"
Creak—
The door swung open.
A gust of freezing wind rushed in, making the candles flicker wildly.
A tall, slender youth stepped into the room.
It was Yang Cheng.
His gaze was calm and deep like a bottomless well, sweeping over the frozen scene before finally resting on Jiang Li seated in the main seat.
Jiang Li's sugary smile stiffened, her eyes narrowing slightly as a trace of cold anger surfaced.
Since childhood, no one had ever dared to question her face to face—let alone interrupt her at her moment of triumph.
"Courting death!"
Hu Chen's eyes flared with killing intent. He drew his sword in one swift motion and slashed toward the doorway.
"Heaven River Killing Sword!"
The power of a peak Insight God exploded from him without restraint.
The entire room trembled as if submerged beneath raging river tides.
A torrent of sword qi surged forth, fierce enough to rend the heavens apart.
He wanted to reduce the arrogant youth before him to ashes—leaving not even a trace of bone or blood behind.
"Master…"
When Hu Chen unleashed that furious, full-power strike at the peak of the Insight God Realm, Dongfang Sheng nearly jumped out of his skin, his soul almost scattering in terror. He cried out instinctively—only to freeze a heartbeat later as realization hit him.
He suddenly remembered who stood before him.
Yang Cheng—the very same man who, outside Lin City of the Horn Constellation Realm, had singlehandedly defeated three Yin God cultivators and even slain two of them.
The words died in Dongfang Sheng's throat. His earlier fear suddenly seemed ridiculous.
A cruel smile spread across Hu Chen's face. In his mind's eye, he could already see the "beautiful" image of the arrogant youth before him being torn apart by his sword qi. He could even picture the approving smile that would return to Miss Jiang Li's face.
After all, he was a peak Insight God cultivator—unmatched in this Wasteland Realm. To him, it didn't matter who the intruder was; no one could survive his sword.
But what happened next froze that sneer on Hu Chen's face. It twisted into utter, soul-piercing horror.
As the brilliant sword torrent came roaring down—strong enough to rival the blow of an early-stage Yin God cultivator—Yang Cheng simply raised his right hand.
No terrifying aura, no killing intent.
He lifted just one finger—his right index finger—and casually drew a line across the air before him.
It was an almost lazy movement, as if he were slicing through water, or tearing a sheet of thin paper.
The motion was slow, gentle, without a trace of effort or heat.
And yet, beneath that simple, casual gesture—
Boom—!
The vast, roaring sword torrent, enough to tear mountains apart and pierce the stars themselves, suddenly slammed into an invisible barrier—one seemingly forged from pure chaos. It was as if the very laws of the world had rejected the strike altogether.
The condensed, raging sword qi, powerful enough to shake the heavens, dissolved silently like frost under the blazing sun.
No ripples. No explosions. No impact.
In the stunned silence, that radiant torrent simply disintegrated—from tip to hilt—turning into countless motes of fading light that scattered and vanished without a trace.
And that wasn't the most terrifying part.
Hu Chen's right arm—the very one that had unleashed the attack—was still extended forward in mid-swing when—
Pfft.
Without warning, a thin red line appeared at his shoulder, fine as a hair.
It was as if a divine blade had sliced through him from across space—clean, perfect, and faster than thought.
Fast.
So fast it surpassed the very flow of time itself.
"Chi."
With a soft sound, Hu Chen's arm fell away at the shoulder, the sword still clutched in his severed hand as both crashed to the ground.
"Ahhh!"
Only then did the pain hit him. It tore through his body, deep into his soul, a thousand burning nerves screaming all at once. He shrieked, stumbling backward, blood gushing from his shoulder like a crimson fountain, painting the floor beneath him.
Thud.
The guard who had been restraining Ma Ruoruo collapsed to his knees, his face pale as death. His eyes were wide and empty as he stared at Yang Cheng—like a mortal gazing upon a descending god of slaughter.
Even Aunt Liang, whose composure was as steady as a mountain, couldn't hide her shock. Her eyes—usually calm and unreadable—now trembled with disbelief.
At that moment, she finally understood who the youth before them truly was.
She had heard of Yang Cheng before, of his terrifying strength. But hearing was one thing; seeing him casually erase a peak Insight God cultivator with a single gesture was something else entirely.
Hu Chen—once thought invincible in this realm—had been crushed like an insect. The ease, the simplicity of it, was horrifying.
Jiang Li's pupils contracted sharply. A cold dread rushed through her chest, but alongside it rose a strange, trembling excitement. Her body shivered involuntarily, caught between fear and fascination.
Even Dongfang Sheng, who had mentally prepared himself for Yang Cheng's power, couldn't help but draw in a sharp breath when he witnessed it.
Like Aunt Liang, he had known Yang Cheng was strong—but this… this was beyond anything he'd ever imagined.